LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



PRESENTED BY 



UNITED STATES OP AMEEIOA. 



POEMS 



TRANSLATED FRO INI THE 



SPANISH AND GERMAN 



HENRY PHILLIPS Ju 



Das Schone blillit nur im Gesang"— Schiller 



PHILADELPHIA 

(One l)uulircb (0\nt3 ;l^ntc^, crclusiucU) for |lriiiiUc (ilirculatiiin. 

1878. 



f- 







s?1 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE SPANISH. 



Ode on the Ruins of Italica 7 

How Gazul Slew the Bridegroom of Zaida 10 

Romance by El Comendador Escriva 13 

Battle of the French and Arragonese 14 

Romance of King Rodrigo 15 

Romance of Virgilius , 1(> 

Romance of Roderick 17 

Romance of Reduan lit 

From my Balcony '21 

Prophecy of the Moor 22 

No te tardes 23 

Romance of Count Martin and Donna Beatrix 24 

Romance by Cristoval de Castillejo 25 

Rio Verde '. 26 

Romance of Lancelot of the Lake 29 

Romance of the Battle of Roncesvalles 31 

My Bark 32 

Romance. Enfrenlcdela Cabana 33 

De Hoy a Mafiana 36 

Romance of the Deatli of De Lara 37 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GERMAN. 



The Robber's Wife 41 

Heimkehr 42 

Song (from Uhland) 43 

«Count Olaf 44 

Erl King's Daughter 45 

The Ring 1 47 

The Magic Tree 4.S 

The Aged Miller 40 

iii 



iv CONTENTS. 

A Lament (from Uhland) 50 

The Acceptance 51 

Steadfast 51 

The Dream (Uhland) 52 

Farewell (Uhland) 52 

Too Late.. 53 

The Saddened Eye.... 53 

The Heart 54 

On the Lake of Gmunden 54 

The Dying Sinner *. 55 

The Three Songs 56 

The Faithful Steed 57 

Henry IV and V 58 

The Vengeance 59 

A Danish Ballad 60 

^^The Duett 61 

The Duel 62 

•■The Calm White Water Lily 63 

Belshazzar 64 

^NightSong (Geibell 66 

A Wish GCy 

Pergolese (Geibel) 67 

nVhen Two Hearts Drift Asunder (Geibel) 68 

*The Bird of Good Luck (Chamisso) 69 

••■Es steht im Meer ein FeJsen 70 

Hor' ich das Liedchen 70 

*In April 71 

First Meeting 71 

The Two Kings 72 

A Frank Confession 72 

"••■Serenade (Reinicke) 73 

*Die Liebe sasz als NHchti<ral! 73 

*Violet Hidden in the Field 74 

*Time is Ever Doing 74 

The Son of Sorrow 75 

* For these songs the translator lias composfd niusir. 



POEMS FROM THE SPANISH. 



POEMS 



ODE ON THE EUIl^S OF ITALIOA. 

(de rioja.) 

Those dreary solitudes which now you view, . j 

Alas, my Fabius, with regretful eye ; ' 
Those long-lost ruins, filled with herbage new. 

And hidden from the gaze of passers by, 

Weje once a beauteous city, of noted fame, i 

Old Seville, or Italica, its name. ] 

Here, Scipio's might a conquering colony placed, * I 
Here, Scipio's hand the wall's foundation traced, . ] 

Of which not even ashes now remain — ! 

An object, first of dread, then of disdain ! \ 

Nor yet a shattered fragment can we find, ] 
Nor relic of its world-enslaving kind ; 

No signs are left to lure the traveler nigh \ 

Where disembodied ghosts of Romans fly ; ; 

Where shades released from Pluto's dread domain , 

Revisit both the forum and the fane ; ' 
Where the athletes were wont to show their skill, 

And where the Thermae stood, near yon pure rill ; ■ 
And find no vestige, and their loss complain. 

The lofty battlements that beat the sky, | 

At their own base in dusty powder lie. j 

Torn into million atoms, long dispersed, j 

Here stood the playhouse of those gods accursed ; < 

Whose fearful fall that row of quickset shows, ^ 

flow great 'twas once, and how much less its close. i 



All, wicked Time, say, wilt thou ne'er repose? 1 



POEMS 

And where, within that ground's uncertain trace, 

Are those who did the games' assemblage grace ? 

Where are the wrestlers, crowned for many a feat ? 

And where the lovers of the bold athlete ? 

All, all have sunk to sleep at Fortune's best, 

The merry triflers long since gone to rest, 

To silence changing words — once, ah, how sweet ! 

But even in Time's ravages we find 
A melancholy pleasure for the mind ; 

For though the eyes on saddening objects cast, 
Within the soul speaks out the dreamy past, 
Of all their first condition and their last ! 
For here was born that thunderbolt of war, 
His country's Father, and the honor of Spain, 
Trajan, before whose ever glorious car 
Abashed and trembling stood the earth and main ; 
That earth o'er which he stretched his potent might, 
That realm o'er which the sun ne'er sank his light; 
From Orient, where the day god's chariot bright 
EoUed, where the Hyperboreans watched the night. 
'Twas here, rocked in a cradle's golden bound. 
Great Theodosius passed his infant days, 
And J^Llius childhood's early pleasures found, 
And Silius, the poet, learned his lays. 

These gardens often saw the champions crowned 
With meed of laurel, and sweet jasmin bound 
Their temples, like a diadem around. 

Here, erst the roses bloomed and lilies grew, 
Here, erst the bee from bud to blossom flew ; 
Naught now is here save a foul, stagnant pond, 
And many a row of brambles far beyond. 



PROM THE SPANISH. 



1 

The house where once great Csesar loved to dwell, I 

Is now of reptiles vile the home and cell. " 

Their weblike tapestry the spiders make, ] 

And screech-owls' hootings on the silence break. \ 

Houses and gardens, Csesar, all have fled ; \ 

No memory haunts the spot, save of the dead ! ; 

If you, my Fabius, can your grief allay, ^ 
Think where yon crowded streets once led the way ! 

Think on the daily throng that through them pressed, ' 
Matrons and senators, diversely dressed ; 
The knight and beggar, miser, spendthrift, sire. 
Beings once filled with the Promethean fire ; , 

The noble palaces, the arcs of glory, , > 

The statues carved by hands now famed in story. -i 

The sure Nemesis, dealing many a wound, " \ 

O'erthrew their structures, razed them to the ground, \ 

And buried deep within the sheltering earth, I 

Those scenes of misery, toil, affection, mirth. , 

And so, the wanderer on the plahis of Troy, -■ 

Will find but little there to raise his joy, ■ 
Peopling the ground with forms that once it knew — 

Alas, there's nothing now to strike thg view ! . 

And even thou. Mistress of Cities, Kome, i 

Art but a shadow of thy former home ! \ 

Of thee, great nurse of gods aad kings of fame, \ 

But scanty are thy relics — scarce thy name ! \ 

And now, of what avail those laws severe, -: 

By Pallas once ordained to Athens dear ? ' '■ 

Which to her offspring down the goddess sent, \ 

With which a thousand years they were content. j 

Their neighbors to procure them strove in vain, \ 

And how has it availed them to obtain ? ' 



10 POEMS 

That spot but yesterday had rulers just ; 

'Tis now a wilderness of shades and dust. 
For death and destiny are surely blind, 
Nor will they spare a brave or learned mind, 
Nor rich, nor poor, nor man, nor womankind ! 

Bat yet, 'tis said that smoke's disclosed to sight, 

That yet, to village eyes, the flame burns bright, 

That wafted on the wings of pitying night, 

The voices of the dead return to light. 

Such power has superstition o'er the will 

The neighbors say that ghosts yet haunt that hill ; 

That at the midnight hour, when Nature sleeps, 

A voice is heard of one who bitter weeps. 

Crying " Italica's fallen;'' and the echoes 'round 

Ring through the woods the dreary, mournful sound. 

And all the welkin answers back the note. 

While all the wood nymphs murmur with sad throat. 

And ghosts in countless myriads swell the strain, 

Reechoing far and wide the drear refrain. 

So still among the people low the glories of past days remain! 



HOW GAZUL SLEW THE BRIDEGROOM OP ZAIDA, 

High in heaven rode the love star, 

Sank the day god's steeds to rest. 
Sombre night with gloomy pinions 

Shrouded nature 'neath her vest. 
With the night a Moor outsallied. 

Fierce as Rodamont, and bold. 



FROM THE SPANISH. 11 , 

I 

Seeking balm for his deep sorrows, ! 

Where the open plains unfold ; 

Where swift Guadalete enters '. 

Castile's ocean, and the name 1 

Of " Our Lady of the Harbor " 1 

Glows with never dying fame. ' 

Fell despair his soul held captive, . 

For, though sprung from noblest race. 
His once love now loathed and spurned him — 

Poverty his sole disgrace. , 

And this night she was to marry ; 

With a Moor of hideous mien, J 
Who, forsootli, kept ward o'er Seville, 

Lord of many a rich demesne. ' 

Bitter groans burst from his bosom i 

At a deed so mean and vile ; ! 

None save echo knew his torments, ] 

And kept mocking him the while. i 

" Zaida," cried he, " savage art thou ' 

As yon sea which 'gulphs our treasure ; \ 

Flinty-hearted, stony-bosomed, I 

Caring only for thy pleasure. i 

Where have fled your soft professions ? -j 

Was there falsehood in your charms ? 
Shall a stranger, rude, presumptuous, 

Dare to clasp thee in his arms ? 

Tell me, have such beauteous maidens I 

Less comj)assion than an oak ? ] 
Can they no more feel our sufferings 

Than it pain at axe's stroke ? 

You desert the noble Gazul, I 

You despise his long tried flame, I 



12 POEMS 

And you wed with Albenzaide, 

Whom you barely know by name. 
For one rich in filthy lucre 

Love's pure gem you have disdained, 
Sold for dresses, gauds and jewels, 

Sadly you ray heart have pained. 
Allah grant, ungrateful sorceress, 

He shall hate, and you adore ; 
And with jealous, biting tortures 

Him oft absent shall deplore. 
And at home that you shall loathe him. 

And with quiet ne'er be blest. 
Slumber ne'er shall calm your sorrows. 

Ne'er to you shall sleep bring rest. 
And when braves to tourney gallop. 

None shall call himself your knight, 
Wear your scarf upon his helmet. 

Wave your broidered glove to light. 
May your knight prove unsuccessful, 

If you any e'er can find ; 
May he lose his arms and courser, 

E'en the love knot which you bind. 
May you dread to see the recreant, 

Base supporter of your fame. 
May you never hear loud praises 

Bear on high your champion's name. 
And if hate arise in wedlock. 

May you live a thousand year ; 
But if love you bear your husband, 

May you see him on his bier. 
• May you meet with this misfortune, 

'Tis of human ills the worst — 
Allah, grant my sad petition. 

With a wretch that thou be curst." 



FROMTHESPANISH. 13 

In this mood he came to Xeres 

At the witching hour of night, 
And he found the palace open, 

Full of revelry and light. 
Troops of menials in bright livery 

Hastened through that mansion gay. 
Through the blaze of countless tapers 

Sped the wronged one on his way. 
'Till before the bridegroom standing, 

Checking there his frantic ride. 
Rising firmly in his stirrups, 

" In thine honor, night !" he cried ! 
Swift and true the good lance flew, 

Pierced his rival through and through ! 
Heedless he of dire confusion 

Did the caitiff's brand unbrace. 
And with valor charging onwards. 

To Sidonia turned his face. 



EOMANOE. 

(el comendador escriva.) 

Come, kindly death, with silent steps, 

That thy approach I may not see. 
Lest the great boon thy coming gives 

Should bring once more new life to me. 
Come, as the thunderbolt that strikes 

When from the highest heaven hurled. 
Whose deafening crash ne'er rends the ear, 

But wreaks destruction on the world. 
Come gently, without noise or strife. 
Lest happiness restore my life. 



14 POEMS 



BATTLE OP THE PEENGH AO AEKAGONESE. 

It was the. holy Sabbath day, 

The Sunday known as Palm, 
When turbaned Moors fiercG battle gave 

Against the Oriflamme. 
And now the Frenchmen's rank do break — 

And now their rout began ; 
And loud he tried to check their flight, 

That Paladin, Koldan. 
'* Charge once again, ye men of France, 

With courage to the fight. 
Better to die with good renown. 

Than live dishonored knight." 
And once again the French did turn 

With valor to the fray. 
And deadly onset they did make, 

And seventy thousand slay. 
Through Altamira's wooded slopes 

King Marsins' flight did speed, 
Upon a zebra mounted high, 

(But not for lack of steed). 
The rushing blood his track did mark, 

And red the greensward dye, 
His groans and words of lament sore 

Went echoing to the sky. 
" Thy faith, false Mahound, I renounce, 

And all thy dread commands ; 
I graved for thee a silver god. 

With marble feet and hands ; 
In Mecca built for thee a mosque. 

Where saints devout oft prayed, 



FROM THE SPANISH. 15 'i 

] 

And yet to pleasure thee still more, : 

A head of srold I made : 

Full twenty thousand cavaliers j 

Before thy shrine I've slain, . '■, 

And thirty thousand more my Queen ' 

Did for tliv sake ordain." , 



EOMANOE or KING EODRiaO. 

Turn your eyes, oh, King Rodrigo, '' 

Look at Spain, with war distraught ! 
See the ruin and destruction ■ 

Your mad love for Cava wrought ! * 

See the noble blood in torrents, ] 

Victims to your lust's foul greed ; 
See the thousand gory cor^Dses 

Where the vultures hungry feed. 
Woe my Spain, thy lustre's dim, 
Lost for Cava, and a whim ! i 

And our country's glorious banner, 

Centuries writ on fame's bright scroll, \ 

You, for one soft, wicked pleasure, ; 

Lost with kingdom, life and soul. \ 

In a moment sped your fortune, ) 

And mishap held firmest sway, ^ 

For an ill deed blurs all honors, ! 

Life and glory fade away. ; 

Woe my Spain, thy lustre's dim, ; 
Lost for Cava, and a whim! 



16 p E ivf s 



THE EOMANOE OP VIEGILIUS. 

Prisoner fast was Virgil taken, 

In a dungeon him they fling, 
For a treason he committed 

In the palace of the king. 
Seven long years they held him captive, 

And the world forgot his fame. 
Till the king one day at chapel 

Suddenly recalled his name. 
" Tell me now my knights and courtiers. 

Where is Virgil, our good friend?" 
Up there spake a cavallero 

Who the captive's fate would mend ; 
" Many a year in prison he's languished 

Whom your mandate there did send." 
" Come to dinner lords and vassals. 

Let's to dinner while 'tis light; 
When the banqueting is finished, 

Visit we the captive knight." 
Then outspake the queen so good, 

" Without him I'll taste no food." 
To the prison then they go 

Where the knight was captive kept; 
" How fill you ^he hours slow ? 

Have you dreamed, or prayed, or wept?" 
" Puissant monarch, my long tresses 

And my beard I comb all day. 
Here, in prison, they grew on me ; 

Here, in prison, they'll turn grey. 
Though to-day my seven years end 

The term I must in prison spend." 



FROM THE SPANISH. 17 

" Hold thy peace, Sir Knight Virgilius, 

Waste no time, nor speak in vain ; 
Of the ten years' doom I gave thee, 

Still three years of prison remain." 
" Lord and master, if it please thee, 

'Till death's hour me detain." 
" Knight Virgilius, for thy patience, 

Thou shalt sup with me to-night." 
" Worn and shabby are my garments 

At the feast not fit for sight." 
" Others thou shalt have, Virgilius, 

Sweet as roses, snowy Avhite." 

All were glad who there were present, 

Lords and ladies of great fame ; 
Most it pleased a maid of honor, • 

Isabella was her name. 
Quick they summoned the Archbishop 

Who, at bidding, speedy came. 
Read the marriage service to them, 

Wedded there the knight and dame. 

EOMANOE OP EODEEIOK. 

Don Eodrigo Spanish monarch. 

For his crown's still brighter grace, 
Hath commanded that a tourney 

In Toledo should take place. 
Seventy thousand noble jousters, 

Their long lances did enlace, 
And the glorious sports of honor 

Much did please the populace. 



18 POEMS 

Then there came Toledo's rulers 

Asking for an act of grace, 
That on Hercules' old mansion 

He another bolt should place. 
For it was an ancient custom, 

Followed long by Kings of Spain, 
When they loitered in Toledo, 

They should each one place a chain. 
But Eodrigo placed no padlock, 

Broke all that were there before, 
Thinking in the ancient mansion, 

Treasure there would be great store. 
When he crossed the dwelling's portal. 

All was desolate, dark and drear, 
Save a rudely cut inscription 

Grimed witli dust of many a year. 
"'Tis for thy most dire misfortune. 

Monarch, thou this floor dost tread, 
Thou hast wrought for Spain's dominions 

Conflagration bloody red." 
Worked with gold and gems a coffer, 

Near a granite column lay. 
And behind it dread escutcheons, 

Heaven's offended wrath display. 
Moorish horsemen, in steel corselets, 

Standing grim, in stone, aj^art, 
Swords and spears at monarch pointing, 

Cross-bows aimed true at his heart. 
Don Eodrigo, struck with terror. 

Turned away from further view, 
Suddenly the sky was darkened. 

And a bolt from heaven flew ; 



FROMTHESPANISH. 19 j 

And fierce flames shot from the mansion, ■ 

And a whirlwind savage bleAV. » ■ 

Then he sent a goodly army, ; 

To campaign in Afric's land ; i 
Cavaliers, some twenty thousand, 

Formed the sum of Julian's band. 

And he crossed the stormy ocean, i 

With his noble, brave command, ^ 
Fierce a tempest raged, and wrecked ships 

Some two hundred on the strand. . 
Five large galleys sank and foundered ^ ': 

On that wild and barbarous shore, 

Knights four thousand illy perished \ 

Some four thousand and no more. 

EOMANOE or EEDUAN. : 

t 

With twice a thousand Barbary steeds '\ 

Rides Reduan that valiant Moor, 

And seizing on whate'er he needs, \ 

The frontier scours o'er and o'er. 

From the battlements of Jaen i 

Gleams he on the sentry's sight, ■ 

From Ubed' to Andujar I 

Like an arrow speeds his flight. } 

And Baeza's tocsin note ! 
Belloivs forth from brazen throat. 

Silent still their march does come, , 

Passing swiftly on their way; j 

Clarions mute and muftled drum, 

E'en the steeds refrain to neigh. i 



20 POEMS 

But at last the guardian sentries 
From their belfry tower on high, 

Wildly waving blazing pine knots 
With red signals light the sky. 

And JBaeza^s tocsin note 

Bellows forth from brazen throat. 

Under shield of favoring night 
With its vague uncertain light, 
Billowy flames behind them rise 
Licking with forked tongues the skies. 
And their path they ever mark 
With fierce murders, blaze and spark, 
Eavaged harvests, ruined grain, 
Burning huts, and desolate plain. 
And Baeza^s tocsin note 
Bellows forth from brazen throat. 

At the unexpected best 

Spring up ready for the fray, 
Squires and knights with lance in rest. 

Men-at-arms with ballistse. — 
From Jaen and Andujar 

Throng the crowds from near and far. 
From Ubeda rush to fray. 

Form in battle their array. 
And Baeza's tocsin note 
Bellows forth from brazen throat. 

The dawning sun opes wide his portals. 
The Christians sally to the plain. 

Where the gay array of mortals 
Shows the chivalry of Spain. 



FROM THE SPANISH. 21 

O'er a league about them thrill 
In the air, the accents shrill, 
Drums and trumpets, bugles, fife, 
Clarion's note, and charger's strife. 
And Baeza's tocsin note 
Bellows forth from brazen throat. 

FEOM MY BALGOIfT. 

(trueba.) 

Before my house and near ray room. 

There dwells my loved one ; face to face ; 

Where clings the jasmin's soft embrace. 
Where every air breathes sweet perfume, 

Because they bloom beneath her care, 

And live upon her beauty rare. 
To me they seem more beauteous still, 

Those plants in which she takes delight, 
And, were it but for this alone, 

I fain would see her day and night. 
Oft through me runs young love's soft thrill, 

At every hour of gloom and light, 

Whene'er I see that figure slight 

In heed bent o'er each tender flower. 

I would be with thee every day and hour I 

My heart with death's deep anguish filled. 

Its love for thee, in words unskilled — 

Can ne'er reveal. Such love it bears ! 

Nor show its soul oppressed with cares. 

And, though but narrow streets divide, 

My words ne'er reach o'er to thy side. 

Nor dare I tell in thoughts distinct and clear, 

The pangs that wring my heart as I stand here 



POEMS 



THE PEOPHEOY OP THE MOOE. 

When the good King Ferdinando 

To Gibraltar siege did lay, 
There to conquer or to perish 

On the book an oath did say ; 
When the last assault was given, 

From the earth and from the strand, 
And there rendered at discretion 

Troops and castle, town and land ; 
Tottering forth an ancient Moor came, 

Bent beneath a hundred years, 
Craving grace from Castile's monarch 

To address him without fears. 
To the greybeard, downcast, trembling, 

Kindly gave the sovereign heed. 
And what words the sage then uttered, 

I will now declare with speed. 
" Many a year I lived in Seville, 

Free from cares, in peace did dwell, 
'Till at last Spain's conquering legions 

From my home did me expel. 
For awhile, I lived in Xeres, 

But when war his flag displayed. 
To thy grandsire, great Alfonso, 

Weakly we resistance made. 
Then at last, I chose Gibraltar 

Of all strongholds most secure, 
That would sure oppose thy forces — 

Yet 'tis lost now to the Moor. 
Go, for fortune smiles upon thee, 

Ocean's wave will roar in vain, 



FROM THE SPANISH. 23 

Billows ne'er shall stop thy conquests, 

'Till of earth naught more remain. 
Give good heed to what I utter, 

For the end will come some day." 
This, I heard the Moorish prophet 

Unto King Fernando say. 



m TE TAEDES. 

(jUAN DE LA ENCINA.) 

Bo not tarry, for Fm dying, 
Gaoler mine, 
Do not tarry. 

Bend thy steps without delay. 
That my life may longer stay, 
That my faith may not give way. 
Gaoler mine 
Do not tarry, for I^m dying. 

Take from me this weighty chain 
That inflicts on me such pain 
As I barely can sustain. 
Gaoler mine 
Do not tarry, for Fm dying. 

When my eyes first on thee fell, 
Thou didst work on me a spell ; 
Loose me now from prison cell. 
Gaoler mine 
Do not tarry, for I'm dying. 



24 POEMS 



While the key to set me free 

And my best reward shall be 

That thou'lt sometimes think of me. 

Gaoler mine 

Do not tarry, for I'm dying. 

And what time you come this way 
I shall e'er your captive stay 
If kind words to me you'll say. 
Gaoler mine 
Do not tarry, for I'm dying. 



KOMANGE OP COUNT MAETIN AND DONNA 
BEATEIZ. 

A marriage feast was held in France, 

In Paris' city gay, 
And Donna Beatriz bore the palm 

From all that bright array. 
The great Count Martin watched the dame 
With eyes afire and heart aflame. 

" Now tell me Count why gaze you here ? 

What marvels do you see ? 
Is it the dance amazes you ? 

Or are your looks for me ?" 

" 'Tis not the dance attracts my eye, 
For many a dance I've seen, 



'Tis your grace and beauty rare. 
Of all fair maids the queen." 



FROM THE SPANISH. 25 

" If I have pleased you, my good friend, 

Then bear me off from here ; 
They force on me a husband old. 

Whose arm you need not fear." 



EOMANOE. 

(CRISTOVAL DE CASTILLEJO.) i 

Now the fatal hour approacheth, i 

Hour of parting, fear and grief, ; 
For I'm racked with grievous torments. 

And my slumbers are but brief. 

Now my beard once black is hoary, \ 

And my face is wrinkled o'er, "I 

And my limbs refuse their office, ' 

I can serve my king no more. 

Now I see with shame and sorrow, j 

Those I knew in boyhood's day, • 
All are prosperous, rich and healthy, 

I am sick, in mean array, - 

Now 'tis time I should relinquish : 

Scenes once viewed with loving eye, i 

For fast vanish all my longings • 

As the hour of death draws nigh, . i 

And prosperity, so fleeting, • 
Still before me keeps retreating. 

Oh, the emptiness of pleasure, 

Vanity of world's mad show. 
Grant me furlough, pitying monarch, 

Grant me leave— 'tis time to go. 



26 POEMS 



EIO VEEDE. 

Emerald river ! emerald river — 

Whose pale waves ran gory blood, 
'Twixt thy banks and high Bermeja 

Died in thousands Spain's best blood. 
Dukes and counts by scores were slaughtered, 

Noblemen of power and might ; 
There his last breathed Urdiales, 

Man of honor — valiant knight. 
In hot haste fled Saavedra 

Down a rocky steep defile, 
Close behind him came a ren'gade, 

Who pursued him all the while, 
And with words of flattering softness 

Thus to capture him did strive ; 
"Yield thee, prisoner, Saavedra, 

And this day thou mayst survive. 
Well I know thee — oft have seen thee 

In Seville at jousting play, 
Often have I seen thy parents. 

And thy wife, Elvira gay. 
Seven long years was I thy captive. 

And my life was bitter sore. 
Now to-day you are my prisoner 

Else my life I'll breathe no more." 
Like a lion turned Saavedra, 

At the Moor's defiant word. 
Then the Kenegade charged upon him 

Flashing through the air his sword. 
Saavedra, with his long lance, 

ThrcAv the caitifi" to the ground, 



FROM THE SPANISH. 27 

Prone upon the earth the recreant 

Breathed his last from his fell wound. 
Then around Saavedra clustered 

Of the Moors, some thousand spears, 
Tore him into million atoms, 

'Midst their anger's burning jeers. 
Don Alonzo still kept fighting, 

Like a knight so brave and bold, 
And the steed they slew beneath him 

For a bulwark he did hold. 
'Till beneath a towering crag 

He at last was brought to bay. 
Vainly his fierce valor guards him. 

Countless Moors still swell the fray. 
For in swarms they set upon him, 

And they wound him deep and sore, 
'Till in death he falls, unconquered, 

'Eound him corpses many a score. 
And the great Count of Urena 

Full of w^ounds, casts off" his pride, 
Safety seeking flies the battle 

With but one weak tottering guide, 
Who well knew each mountain pathw^ay 

That would lead to friendly land. 
Many a Moor he left there dying, 

Victims of his valiant hand. 
Yet a few did 'scape in safety 

Of the Count's good vassals true. 
Don Alonzo, dead, deserted. 

Gained from fame his life anew. 
With a lustre never ending, 

Valor and virtue e'er commending. 



28 POEMS 



EOMANCE OF ABENAMAK. 



" Abenamar, Abenamar, 

Moor of noblest Moorish guise, 
On thy natal day came omens, 

Signs and portents ruled the skies. 
Quiet calm reigned o'er the ocean, 

Luna's orb was full on high ; 
He who's born beneath such aspects 

Surely ne'er can stoop to lie." 
Head erect the Moor made answer, 

" Well I note what thou dost say. 
Lies shall ne'er my lips dishonor, 

Though my life should forfeit pay. 
For my father was great Amar, 

Christian slave, my mother dear ; 
In my youthful childish hours 

To her words I oft gave ear. 
That the truth should be my comrade, 

That to lie was base and mean ; 
Ask your questions, noble monarch, 

Ne'er my lips shall be unclean." 
" Much I thank thee, Abenamar, 

For thy courtesy this day ; 
Say, what are those lofty turrets, 

Where bright torches dance and play?" 
" 'Tis th' Alhambra, mighty sov' reign, 

And a mosque stands on the hill, 
By its side is Alijares, — 

Marvels all of human skill. 
Every Moor who labored on them 

Got five gold coins, day by day. 



FROM THE SPANISH. 29 i 



And what time they idly rested, 

That much forfeit each did pay. 
There its head rears Generalife, 

There its gardens without peer, 
Near it are the Crimson Towers, 

Stronghokl built for many a year. 
Thus King Juan once addressed it 

Standing just where we do, here; 
' If thou'lt love me, oh Granada, 

Be to me a loving wife, 
Cities twain, I'll give for dowry, 

Cordov' and Seville for life.' 
' I'm no maiden, puissant monarch, 

I'm no widow, but a wife, 
And the Moor who is my husband 

Holds me dearer than his life.' " 



EOMANOE or LANCELOT OF THE LAKE. 

Three stalwart sons the king possessed. 

And only three : no more. 
And fierce with wrath, and bitter rage 

He cursed them all, full sore. 
The eldest to a stag was changed, 

And one became a hound, 
And one renounced his God and Christ, 

And fled to Moorish ground. 
For many an hour, in love's soft dream. 

Sir Lancelot idly dwelt, 
'Till him a dame did thus accost, 

For whom he passion felt. 



30 POEMS 

"Oh Cavalier of goodly mien, 

If fortune you would gain, 
And have me for your wedded Avife, 

I must one boon obtain ; 
The wizard stag with four white feet, 

You must for me enchain." 
'* It should be yours, oh lady fair. 

My courage ne'er should flag, 
If I but knew the woodland haunts, 

Where roams the wondrous stag." 
Up and away rode Lancelot, 

Away for many a league. 
And by his side, and 'fore him ran 

His hounds, without fatigue. 
And once he neared a rocky cliff. 

Where was a hermit's cell, 
" God keep thee safe, oh holy man." 

" May heaven keep thee well. 
You seem to me a hunter bold. 

Whose hounds and spear I now behold."- 
. " Now tell to me, oh saintly man. 

Who dvvell'st afar from strife, 
Where shall I find the white foot stag ? 

Where passeth he his life ?" 
" Stay here, my son, and rest thy frame, 

Until the day dawn breaks, 
I'll tell thee all I've seen and known. 

Where he his lodging makes. 
For e'en to-night he passed this way, 

Two hours ere the break of day, 
Fierce lions seven did him guard. 

And Avith them went a spotted pard. 



FROM THE SPANISH. * 31 

In vain to capture him, full seven 

Brave counts of fame did strive, 
And many a worthy knight and squire — 

But none are now alive. 
May heaven ever be your friend. 

Where'er you come, where'er you go, 
For she who did you hither send. 

Must surely be your hidden foe." 
" Ah Quintanones, wicked dame, 

May hell's fierce fires thee burn, 
Who did so many valiant knights 

To liffeless corpses turn." 



THE BATTLE OP EONOESVALLES. * 

With many a deep and deadly wound. 

Came forth old Charlemagne i 

From battle field his troops had lost ■ 

Against the hosts of Spain. 
And of his twelve, once known to fame, 

Koldan alone did live ; 
For him nor sword nor sharpened spear 

A mortal blow could give. 
He knelt before an old stone cross, \ 

In worship prone he lay, \ 

With eyes to heaven's dome upraised . ; 

In anguish sore did pray. -^ 

"Oh noble heart, oh heart of grace, 

Where has thy valor fled ? i 

To leave the field of Roncesvalles ] 

Thus unrevenged — nor dead. — "; 



32 POEMS 

Oh loyal kniglits, and brethren trne 

You cry with weakening breath, 
Th}it I was but your friend in life 

Deserted you in death." 
He lay in sorrow bowed to earth 

And racked with deepest pain : 
He raised his eyes — before him stood 

His monarch — Charlemagne ! 
His brow was sad, his crown was lost 

His visage streamed with gore — 
And when that sight Knight Roldan knew 

His heart beat nevermore. 



MY BAEK. 

(LEONOR BLANDER.) 

Shipwrecked alone upon this desert strand, 
• By cruel fate o'erwhelmed — a barren plain ; 
Naught now is left me save this fragile bark 

With which at morn I'll tempt the raging main. 

With thee, my skiff, I'll cross the roaring brine, 
And safely 'scape the rocks and billows' foam, 

And if no solace for my cares I find, 

With thee, my bark, I'll sink to my last home. 

Oh bark divine, religion, sent from God ! 

When storms harass tlie scenes of daily strife. 
Thou art for me the sun, the way, the light, 

My all, my good, ray only guide in life. 



FROMTHESPANISII. 33 ^ 



Thou art my one, my only steadfast hope, 
Tlie flame that feeds my ever failing heart, 

When in the maddening crush of life's dread dance 
The fainting spirit yields its better part. 



EOMANOE. 

(lope de vf.ga.) 

Before the bowered hut of mossy thatch 

Where Amaryllis dwelt, a godlike form. 

Of years most tender and of thoughts most gay 

Of grace and beauty full, of heart more warm 

Than when Aurora first doth smile at dawn 

Kissing with blushing lips the tender spray, 

Weaving a pearly web o'er jasmin's wan, 

While dew-drops bright upon each rosebud play ; 

More bright than Phoebus, when at earliest morn. 

From darkened couch he rises fair, and shines 

In all the brilliancy of colored ray, 

In all the sparkle of a gilded day ; 

More beauteous far than she, whose chariot drawn 

By doves and swans flies radiant on the winds ; 

A shepherd swain there was, soft Fabius hight. 

Who for her sang and sighed all day and night. 

Of noblest birtli for all the world beside 

But lowly-minded lost for her his pride. 

His thoughts did lofty reach the sun god's sphere — 

Slender his hopes — lest to approach too near 

His deity's bright ray should melt his wing, 

And in despair's dark gloom him desolate fling. 



34 POEMS 

His gaze was steadfast on the portal closed 
That shed eclipse upon his star's bright ray, 

But which, both iron and force in vain opposed, 
Some glimmering spark on sward and sod would stray. 

No gilded sunflower could more constant be. 
Turning its course to watch the orb's pure fire, 

Than Fabius, ever 'neath his shaded tree. 
To view the object of his soul's desire. 

His lambkins, strayed and lost, are scattered far, 
Among the brambles dense, and osiers wild. 

Because his thoughts are fixed upon a star, 
And naught of earth can claim his fancies mild. 

Hot burns the sun, and cold the moon's pale light, 

In rapture bound, he knows nor day nor night, 

Nor when 'tis darkness, nor when dazzling bright, 

For Amaryllis is his only light ! 
And when her face beams forth upon his gaze 
Forever does he bask in warmest rays ; 
Slow speed the hours when absent from her view, 
Fast rolls Time's wheel when she appears anew ; 
No troubles then can vex the love-sick boy. 
Nor cares oppress, nor sadness e'er annoy. 
Careless his shepherds are to his commands, ' 
And at their will, neglect their fleecy bands. 

Since he to Amaryllis captive grew; 

For that his soul was gone, full well they knew. 

They twain becoming one which erst were two. 
Upon the elm trees white he sadly gazed, 

Thick on whose boughs the clinging vines grew 'round, 
And yet no envy in his heart there raised. 

For there had jealousy ne'er harbor found, 

And envy only dwells where jealousies abound. 



FROM THE SPANISH. 35 

i 

In gentle sadness, broken, long-drawn sighs \ 

Of passion full, his soul escapes in cries. ; 

" Perhaps in love's soft tenderness my sweetheart lies \ 

In Thyrsis' arms, bound as the vines and elm." 

And tortures deep the shepherd overwhelm, '• 

And bitter tears his troubled eyes distill, ' :i 

Stung by yet sharper pangs his accents thrill, _ i 

The river's bank his loving grief replies. ' 

The name of Thyrsis echoed back full gladly ;— | 

Slow spake the nymph the name of Fabius— sadly. ,^ 

And still the love-sick swain his grief outpoured ; j 

" Far, far above me, art thou, my adored ! j 

But if the soul is wealth, as sages say, ] 

Oh shepherdess, thou must be mine some day ! ■ 

For thou art dazzling pearl and burnished gold, j 

And precious stones, and sparkling rubies red ; '] 

And e'en the diamond's shine is bleak and cold 1 

Before thy beauty— valueless and dead. ] 
And he who does not give to thee his soul 

For every service fit, and homage yield ; 
To every end thy beauty may control. 

To gain thee honor, fame in every field, — ^ 
That churl offends thee more with measured zeal 
Than they who ne'er thy chains as captive feel. 

And while my frame doth breathe beneath my will ■ 

So art thou mistress of my destiny still. ] 

My soul resides in thee for thou art heaven ; ■ 

Oh prize my gift for it is freely given ! ' ^ 

He ceased ; and on an ancient elm that stood near by 

He graved these words, while tears streamed from each eye ; ] 

" As Amaryllis in beauty far excels all other dames, j 

So constant Fabius e'er shall be to suffer in her flames !" ' 



36 P O E M s . 

DE HOY A MANAMA. 

(lope DE VEGA.) 

'Twixt eve and morn swift rolls Time's lliglit, 

Great Troy was burned within one night, 

And Rome its fame forever lost, 

And the Armada tempest tossed, 

The grandest fleet e'er known to sight. 

Eve turns to morn, and ere 'tis done 
The rich and poor become as one, 
The loved is hated and accursed. 
The king, down-trodden and reversed, 
The flowing sea ebbs wiih the sun. 

'Twixt eve and morn tlie heaven so blue 
Will quick assume an ebon hue. 
The verdant sward will dusky burn, 
The fowl of timid flight will turn 
And pierce the skies with pinions true. 

To-day, the flowers and buds are bright. 
To-morrow, falls a withering blight, 
The master to a slave is changed. 
The mountains to a vale are ranged, 
And princely favor is as light. 

'Tis said betwixt the cup and lip 
There's danger lies of many a slip ; 
This fact the wise know well, 
For in less time than takes to tell 
Dishonor fast may grip. 



F II .M T II E SPANISH. 37 



DEATH OF DE LAEA. 

'Twas Mnreh the seven and twentieth day, 

Tlie midnight hour rang, ^ 

When through the town of Barcelon', ] 

There sped a bitter pang ; ' 

The heavens were rent with doleful cry, 

And high and low were grieved, 1 

For Don Manriqne — Lara's lord, I 

His last on earth had breathed. , 

And to his home the corpse they bring " 

Of him to fame well known, 
A velvet pall his form did deck j 

With gems and precious stone. i 

And 'round him were escutcheons borne j 

That showed his royal birth, ] 

From many a pure and kingly line. 

The noblest of this earth. 
The great De Castros and Manriqne, 

The' bluest blood of Spain, 
And Lara's high-born lineage j 

His straight descent maintain. j 

And all the bishops marched along, I 

And all the city's priests. 
Brave knights support the noble bier. 

And dukes the pomp increased. 
In tears burst forth the king and queen. 

As smit with grievous pain, , 

And all the court in tears were turned, \ 

And all the funeral train. 
And all the fair were desolate, \ 

And gone were j)lensure and joy, ; 



38 POEMS 

And all their gallants sadly cried, 

As pierced with sharj) annoy. 
And every soldier, courtier, page, 

Throughout his tears did say, 
" The best of all who've lived on earth 

Has gone to heaven this day." 
And e'en the humblest soul in town 

Came forth in stricken grief, 
And counts, and lords, and great grandees 

In weeping found relief; 
Yet there one thought for solace was, 

When he had passed away, 
Although his life on earth might end. 

His fame should live for aye. 
So deep in grief was Barcelon' 

x\s Troy to flames a prey. 



POEMS FROM THE GERMAN 



POEMS 



THE EOBBEE'S WIPE. \ 

(von zedlitz.) \ 

The sun goes down all bloody red, . 
As though ray darling were pris'ner and dead : 

They're waiting below in the rocky glade, \ 

And cower in hiding 'neath crag and shade. \ 

They're crouching in ditches, and 'midst the tall grass 

Near the chasm of death where the travelers must pass : , 

And the gorge is beset, and the ambush is laid, I 

And a sentinel's placed where the day beams last fade. ' 

Sleep gently, my baby, where 'neath the cool grot i 

The murmuring rill lulls thy innocent cot, { 

Sleep gently, my baby, while softly I'll sing \ 

Of the gnomes and the fairies, the elves and their king. \ 

J 

" Ye elves who weave " — Hark ! there the first clang ! 

From the rifle true of my husband rang, 

And when he aims his bullet speeds — \ 

His steady hand ne'er fails his needs. * 

" Ye elves who weave the veil so fine " — 

Again — and swift as lightning's shine — i 

Down in the vale the smoke grows thick, — j 

Metliinks the fray is strangely quick. j 

4i \ 



42 POEMS 

" Ye elves who weave the veil so fine 
And hover 'round this babe of mine" — 
Again his gun — I know its tones — 
There is but one such weapon owns. 

Clang follows clang ! No travelers are they- 
'Tis soldiers greedy to seize their prey. 
No hopes of booty this day to make ; 
To-day our lives shall be the stake ! 

Oh. heaven ! how cold my forehead's grown- 
I hear his rifle's thunder tone. 
I hear't no more— dead silence reigns, 
Oh, how my heart is racked with pains. 

I tremble,— totter,— Quick away 

Or we may rue a longer stay ! 

The sun's gone down — all bloody red. 

Where lies my darling — prisoner ? dead ? 



HOME AGAIN. 

(HEIMKEHR. UHLAND.) 

Old mouldy bridge that trembles so, 

Break not beneath my tread ; 
Thou tottering rock, keep firm in place, 

That threatenest overhead. 
Stand fast, oh world, and give not way 

Ye heavens' vaulted dome, 
'Till I have reached my sweetheart's hut- 

Then ivelcome death and home ! 



FROM THE GERMAN. 43 

soNa. 

(UHLAND.) 

Beside the roaring ocean 

A tender damsel waits ; 
For many an hour she's angled, 

No fish comes nigh her baits. 

There gleams upon her finger 

A gem of purest ray ; 
She binds it to her fishhook 

And casts it in the spray. 

From out the deep there stretches 

A hand, as ivory white, 
And on its finger glistens 

The ring, with dazzling light. 

There rises from the ocean 

A knight, so brave and fine, 
With coat of mail bespangled 

That mirrors the sunshine. 

In terror cries the maiden, 

" Sir Knight, it cannot be. 
Pray give me back my jewel ; 

I have no need of thee." 

" One angles not for fishes 

With sparkling diamond's shine. 

The ring I'll keep/orei'er, 
Forcrer art thou mine." 



44 P O E M s 

COUNT OLAP. 

(von tlcennies.) 

Count Olaf rides to the haunted spring 

On the spoor of the fleeting stag, 
The horns reecho with silvery ring 

From the steeps of the mountain crag. 

But, hark ! through the rush of the gurgling lymph 

Comes another and sweeter strain: 
'Tis tender voice of the fountain's nymph. 

He lists to the soft refrain. 

As the first note thrilled, away from his hand 
Flew the hawk and was lost in the clear: 

And the hart cowered low, with its head in the sand, 
And shivered and shook with fear. 

At the second swell of the wondrous sound 

His feet from the stirrups he drew, 
As the third note rang, with a fearsome bound 

The riderless charger flew. 

More fierce and more strongly out-toned the soft hest, 
And the waves purled a sweet loving lay : 

A terrible longing pierced deep through his breast 
And he sank — in the arms of a fay. 

The brook ripples on by the side of the bourne, 

A gurgling, murmuring host ; 
Forever is silenced that silvery horn. 

Forever Count Olaf is lost ! 



FRO>r THE GERMAN. 45 

ERL KING'S DAUaHTER. 

(HERDER.) 

Count Oluf rides out, for and wide, 
To bid the guests to meet his bride. 

The elves were dancing in Elfinland, 

The Erl king's daughter stretched out her hand. 

" Welcome Count Oluf, why hurry to pass ? 
Come tread me a measure upon the green grass." 

" I may not tarry — I may not stay — 
To-morrow is my Avedding-day." 

" Come now, Count Oluf, and dance with me 
Two golden spurs will I give to thee, 

" And a garment of silk so soft and fine, 

Which my mother bleached in the pale moonshine." 

" I dare not dance — I dare not stay — 
To-morrow is my wedding-day." 

'' Come now. Count Oluf, and dance with me 
A busliel of gold shall thy guerdon be." 

"A bushel of gold would please me fidl well 
But my soul for that I may not sell." 

" And since tliou wilt not dance with me 
Shall torture and torments thv comrades be." 



46 POEMS 

She dealt him a blow right through the heart, 
He ne'er had felt so deadly a smart. 

She raised him pale upon his steed ; 

" Kide home, Count Oluf, your wife you'll need." 

And as he rode home 'cross the moor. 
His mother trembled at the door. 

*' Come now, my son, and tell the tale. 
Why is thy cheek so wan and pale ?" 

" And should not he be wan and pale 
Who's traveled in the Elfin vale ?" 

" Come now, my son, so true and tried, 
Wliat message shall I to the bride ?" 

" Tell her I've ridden in the wood 
To test my horse and hound so good." 

And as the early morning broke 
Up came the bride with all her folk ; 

With foaming mead and sparkling wine— 

" Where is Count Oluf the bridegroom mine ?" 

" Count Oluf 's ridden in the wood 
To try his horse and hound so good." 

The bride upraised the tap'slry red, 
There lay Count Oluf— and If "v^.s- <lnid.' 



KKOM ril K (iKll.M AN. 

THE EING. 

(kkrnkr.) 

A kni.nht of unknown 'scutcheon, 

From steed of ebon hue, 
Entered the kingly palace 

Amid a jovial crew. 

The knight of unknown armor 

Upon his linger wore 
A diamond of such wondrous ray 

As ne'er was seen before. 

The costliest gem on earth 

The monarch's diadem graced, 

Yet 'fore the stranger's jewel 
It seemed like dullest paste. 

Tiie monarch bade him gold. 
And rank and folk and land ; 

Yet still the knight refused 
To take it from his hand. 

Loud roared the king in anger 
To the Chieftain by his throne, 

" Hew ofl" the boorish villain's hand 
And bring it with the stone.*' 

He drew his sword and made a cut 

To sever oH" the hands— 
AVhen lo ! the knight in smoke was gone ! 

The deril 'fore him standtf ! 



47 



G 



48 POEMS 

From out the ring red flames flashed, 
Firece tire flew forth — Hw:is Hell ! 

It seized the servants, guards and king, 
In flames the castle fell. 



:o:- 



THE MAaiO TEEE. 

(von zedlitz.) 

Methonght my days were ended, 
Life's turmoils all were by, 

My soul an extinct crater, 
My heart was cinders dry. 

And all my life's long troubles 

Into thin air were fled. 
And all my joys were vanished, 

And all my pains were dead. 

I slept and dreamed at midnight 

Beneath the wizard oak ; 
Heaven sent a withering missive, 

Its lightning's deadly stroke. 

Once more my life came to me, 
My blood raced through my veins 

A terror seized upon me 

And brought me joys and pains ; 

And ere my scattered senses 
Had given me time to rest, 

A raging storm broke on me — 
A whirlwind in my hrcdfif. 



FROM THE GERMAN. 4'J 

THE AGED MILLEE. 

(CIIAMISSO.) 

Loud roars the wild whirlwind in tempest and shriek, 
The old mill totters, the mouldy walls creak. 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

Far off from tlie mill is the miller the while, 
He stands on the hrink of a giddy defile. 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

He bl-aves the fierce tempest, the whirlwind and cloud, 
He talks with the storm-fiend in accents uncowed. 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

Plis long white hair on the breeze flies unbound, 
The words he speaks have a gruesome sound. 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

" Be welcome, be welcome, ye powers of air, 
What tidings ye bring me, now quickly declare." 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

"My cradle ye've rocked and my childhood ye've taught 
And ever have loved me and fortune have brought." 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

"With lessons of wisdom, my soul ye've Avell stocked, 
With knowledge and learning, by fools ever mocked." 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

"Oh fools, oh ye fools, ye never have known 
What wondrous instruction the wild winds have ])lown." 
Help heaven ! liave mercy upon us. 



50 P o E :m s • 

" The word becomes deed and the child becomes man, 
The zephyr the whirlwind — conceive it who can !" 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

" Be welcome, be welcome, oh storm ruling king, 

And quickly give deed to whate'er ye may bring." 

Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

" The measure is full and the time is o'er late, 
Destruction and ruin on judgment await." 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

And lo, as he spake, there blew a fierce gale 
That dashed him to atoms far down the deep vale. 
Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 

Shattered to pieces the old mill lies. 
And billows of sand o'er the ruins arise. 

Help heaven ! have mercy upon us. 



A LAMENT. 

(UHLAND.) 

Buried in one's best life yeare 

Is sure an evil star ; 
But there's another misery 

Surpassing it by far, 
When full of heart's warm passion 

And tenderness untold, 
With true love unrequited 

One grows untimely old. 



F R O M T II K ( i E II M A N . '^ ^ 

THE AOOEPTANOE. 

(VON ZKDLITZ.) 

In the soft glamour of a summer's night, 

Bedecked with shimmering stars and mellowed light, 

The air with balmy perfume filled, and zephyr's moan, 

Within the woodland roamed we two— done! 

In the soft glamour of a summer's night. 

Soul spake to soul although our lips were still. 
For hand sought hand and eyes expressed our will. 
Her glowing cheek touched mine, so softly pressed, 
"Forever thine," I cried, "with thee how blessed !" 
Soul spake to soul although our lips were still. 

" Forever thine," she whispered me again. 
The heavens above me seemed as cleft in twain 
Its joys once more upon me to impart— 
Ah", joys long absent from my aching heart. 
" Forever thine," she whispered me again. 



STEADPAST. 

(VON ZEDLITZ.) 

All the world has lied. 
Every hope has died, 
All my visions bright. 
Long have ta'en to flight ; 
But there's with me, ever true. 
Ever iiiithful, ever new— 
;My heart, my smart. 



52 POEMS 

THE DEEAM. 

(UHLAND.) 

In a garden of roses there wandered 
Two lovers, hand in liand ; 

Two weakly, pale-faced shadows. 
They dwelt in a fliiry land. 

They covered their cheeks with kisses, 
Their lips were tightly pressed. 

Their arms wound 'round each other, 
Once more were their hearts at rest. 

Two hells clanged loud at day dawn, 
Away sped the dreams in the air ; 

She, lay in a cell in a cloister — 
He, far in a dungeon's dark lair. 



PAREWELL. 

(UHLAND.) 

Farewell, farewell, my only love. 
To-day our hearts must sever. 

Give but one kiss, one tender kiss, 
To-day we part /ore^-er. 

Give me a bud, a single bud. 

From off thy fav'rite tree. 
Nor blossom nor flower shall ever grow 

Upon its boughs for me. 



1 



YROyi THE G E R M A N . T)."} 

TOO LATE. 

(VON ZrXLITZ.) 

Ah, had I but stayed away ! 
Love at first sight came that day. 
And from loving came such smart, 
And sucli longing, hopes and fear.s, 
And such countless bitter tears. 
That in tears I broke my heart. 
And that heart, now dulled to feeling. 
Life's sweet joys no more revealing, 
With my soul's forever fled. 
Comes sad Love such pains to shed 
(And from seeing is Love fed) 
Then 'tis seeing strikes us dead. 
Ah, had I but stayed away ! 
Love at first sight came that day. 



THE SADDE]^ED EYE. i 

(VON ZEDLITZ.) j 

Along thy eye-lash tarries j 

A softened moisture clear, "j 

Like the dew on the morning meadow, ' 

And yet it is no tear. ' 

■J 

Ah, were it but a droplet ! ' 

One tear thine eyes would send — 

One tear of hope— of sorrow— i 

For thy departing friend. ' 



54 POEMS 

THE HEAET. 

(NEUMANN.) 

The heart hath cli ambers twain, 

Wherein dwell 

Soft pleasure and sharp pain. 

When pleasure wakes full well, 

Then slumlers 

Pain in his narrow cell. 

Oh Pleasure, have a care ! 

Speak low — 

Lest pain should wake and claim his share ! 

ON THE LAKE OP GMUNDEN. 

(von ZEULITZ.) 

What mean those waves, so rude and dark, 
That surge around my little bark ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done to me ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done ? 

What shape skims 'round my skiff's sharp prow 
And beckons me with hand and brow ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done to me ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done? 

WHiat means that arm as white as snow, 
W^hat means my bosom's stormy glow ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done to me ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done ? 



FROM THE GERMAN. 55 

My heart is filled with raptures strange, 
My deepest soul has felt a change. 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done to me ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done ? 

The earth and sky around me flee — 
Down, clown — beneath the waves — to thee/ 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done to me ? 

Oh, Nixie, what hast done ? 



THE DYIM SINNER. 

(CHAMISSO.) 

The passing bell tolls in the tower, 
The grave is dug, grim death is nigh ; 

To prayers, to prayers, for e'en this hour 
May be your last beneath the sky ! 

On her death-bed lies a beauteous dame 
Who bitter wails her young life's close ; 

In tears she thinks of her sin and shame. 
She writhes with terror in conscience' throes. 

Awaiting the end her husband stands, 
With cold, unfeeling, heedless stare ; 

Prone on the floor she grasps his hands 
And tells her tale in wild despair. 

" Oh God, forgive me in my need ! 

Oh husband, pardon grant me now ! 
How bitterly I rue the deed — 

Alas — I broke mv marriage vow!" 



56 POEMS 

" One confidence deserves another ; 

Since thou hast been so frank with me, 
I will repay thy words with other, 

Thou diest from poison given by me." 



THE THEEE SONGS. 

(UltLAND.) 

In his lofty palace sate Sifrid the King ; 

" Ye Harpers ! which can most sweetly sing ?" 

And a youth came forth from the crowd, with a glide, 

A harp in his hand and a sword by his side. 

"Three songs I know — and the first of the three. 
Has long been forgotten by thine and by thee. 
By thy murderous hand was my brother slain. 
Was my brother foully, treacherously slain. 

" The next of my songs one night came to me 
In a whirlwind of fire and storm and wild sea. 
That thou shalt strive with me for life and for death, 
That our swords shall cross for life and for death." 

Then leaned he his harp on the walls so old. 
And drew they their sabres, determined and bold, 
And crashing and clashing accompanied their fray 
'Till the king sank o'erpowered to vengeance a prey. 

" Now sing I the third, sweetest song of them all, 
A song that will ne'er on my senses pall. 
In his red, red blood, king Sifrid lies, 
Dead in his blood King Sifrid lies." 



PROM THE GERMAN. 57 

THE FAITHPUL STEED. 

(kerner.) 

Count Turneck came, o'er a path untrod, 
As the night cloud fell, to a house of God. 

TlVc church lay buried in a wood 
And in its nave a king's tomb stood. 

The Count resolved to rest that night, 
He thought his wounds were only light; 

Dismounted from his steed and said, 

" Graze here. I come when niglit be sped," 

The door swang open with dismal groan. 
In silence he entered the church, alone. 

In gloom and in darkness he groped around 
'Till an empty coffin at last he found. 

" To-night shall my body here rested be. 
Old mouldy wood, break not under me !" 

He lay full length without dread or fear, 
And slumbered on the worm eat' bier. 

The morning sun its radiance shed : 

He came not forth. The Count was dead ! 

Century on century rolled away, 
The steed still pastured, day by day. 

E'en now is seen, at the drear midnight, 
Tlie steed stands there in the cold moonlight. 



58 p o eJm s . 

HENRY IV AND V. 

(max von oer.) 

Where Speiers' suburbs reach the plains, 
A graybeard struggles in death's pains ; 
His couch is hard, his comforts few, 
And bitter tears his cheeks bedew. 

No kindly soul sits near his bed. 

Grim death alone stands at his head. 

And as he dealt his deadliest pang 

On the still midnight came a wondrous clang. 

The kaiser tocsin, dumb many a year, 
B}'^ mortal untouched, tolled slow and drear. 
And all the chime, both great and small, 
In solemn chorus swelled the call. 

Then spread the tidings far and wide, 
" To-day the emperor has died. 
The kaiser's dead, the kaiser's dead. 
Can 710 one say where rests his head ?" 

In Speiers, that regal city old. 
There lies upon a bed of gold, 
With breaking eye and heavy hand, 
Henry, fifth emperor of that land. 

The menials hasten to and fro. 

The rattling throat heaves deep and slow, 

And as death dealt his deadliest pang 

On the still midnight came a wondrous clang. 



FROM THE GERMAN 



59 



The sinner's bell, long idle hung, 
At executions only rung. 
And ne'er another joined the tone — 
So tolled it sad and tolled alone. 

Then spread the tidings far and wide, 
" Some one to-day by hangman died. 
Who can the wretched sinner be. 
And say where stands the gallows tree ?" 



THE VENGEANCE. 

(UHLAND.) 

The squire hath murdered his knight for gold ; 
The squire would fain be a warrior bold. 

He slew him by night upon a drear field. 
And in the deep Rhine his body concealed. 

He braced on the armor, so heavy and bright, 
And mounted the steed of his master, the knight. 

And as he rode over a bridge 'cross the Rhine 
The charger 'gan fiercely to rear and to whine. 

As the golden spurs in his flanks did go, 
The squire was cast in the stream's wild flow. 



With foot and with hand he struggles in vain, 
Bv the armor drawn down, he ne'er rises again. 



G-) POEMS 

A DANISH BALLAD. 

(hartman.) 

Upon King Alfred's wedding-day 

A terrible storm blew o'er land and o'er sea, 

The Bishop so young, in his Talar gray, 

Hath married the pair and a blessing did pray. 
Heigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 

The Bishop so young, himself was sprung 
From a kingly stock of the oldest blood. 

And 'neath the gown that o'er his breast hung 
Roared his passions in angry flood. 

Heigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 

How fain would he himself have been 
The bridegroom of that charming bride ; 

But long had he been freed from sin 

And no thought of love in his breast dare hide. 
Heigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 

And to the pious blessing he asked. 

Like a poison drop in the sweetest wine, 

A deep, deep curse in his prayer he masked, 
Which none there knew by word or sign. 
Heigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 

And as she entered the nuptial shrine 

Away turned the saints, every face from the twain. 
The flickering lamps gave a dismal shine, 

King Alfred's heart grew wild with pain. 
Heigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 



F 11 O M Til E (1 E R M A N . G 1 

"And war'st thou untrue or in thought or in deed?" 
She sobo "Nay never" and swears by the tna^s. 

A beaker of wine he orders with speed, 

And a small black bead he adds to the glass. 
Ileigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 

A prayer for the dying the Bishop did say, 

While the bride seized the goblet and quaffed it amain, 

A blessing once more the Bishop did pray, 

While the terrible storm raged o'er sea and o'er plain. 
Heigh ho ! 'twas a gruesome night. 



THE DUETT. 

(reinicke.) 

There sate a birdie in the shade, 

In the calm, quiet, cool, stilly, May night ; 
B2neath in the grass, there lay a maid. 

In the cool quiet still May night. 
When sang the maid, the bird was still ; 
When silence reigned, the bird did trill ; 
And echo pale, prolonged the tale, 
Throughout the moon illumined vale. 

What tones gave out that songster's note. 

In the cool, quiet calm stilly May night? 
What lay poured from that maiden's throat. 

In the cool quiet calm May night ? ,/ 
Of sunny spring, the bird's note rang, 
Of love's delights, the maiden sang ; 
And how that song my heart did throng, 
I'll ne'er forget my whole life long. 



62 POEMS 

THE DUEL. 

(HEINE.) 

High on yonder mountain's summit, 
Stands a castle veiled in night ; 

In the valley gleam bright lightnings, 
Whirling swords with blazing light. 

Those stern fighters are two brothers, 

Madly hungering for a life ; 
Speak and tell us now the reason 

Of this wild nefarious strife ? 

For the love of Countess Laura 

Have both hearts with wrath been swayed 

And they've drawn their murderous weapons 
To possess the beauteous maid. 

Which one of the two combatants 
Can the fair one's favor boast ? 

Neither, has she more inclined to — 
Sword ! thy point shall do the most ! 

And they duel, bold, determined. 
Clashing, flashing, blow on blow, 

Thrusting blindly in mad darkness, 
Stumbling 'midst the bushes low. 

Woe, ye fratricidal monsters ! 

Woe, ye vale of bloody zeal ! 
Each one falls to earth prostrated 

Bv his brother's l)loody steel. 



FROM THE GERMAN. 

Generations have departed, 
Centuries have rolled away ; 

On the hill side, sadly gloomy, 
Stands the castle to this day. 

But when eve falls on that valley, 
Strange the tale the peasants say. 

As the church bells toll out midnight 
Once more clangs the brother's fray / 



THE CALM WHITE WATER LILY. 

(geibel.) 

The calm white water lily 

Swims on the dark blue mere, 

Its dewy leaflets tremble. 
Its neck as snow is clear. 

The moon shines out from heaven. 
With burnished, golden ray. 

And all the glittering beamlets 
Deep in her bosom play. 

There circles 'round the flower 

A swan, as ivory wdiitc, 
And gazing at the lily 

He sings so sweet, so light. 

The lay is soft and tender 

His dying notes prolong. 
Oh lily, purest lily, 

Cans't thou well rend his song? 



6:^ 



64 POEMS 

BELSHAZZAK. 

(HEINE.) 

The midnight hour onwards pressed ; 
All Babylon was sunk in rest. 

Save where the palace stood on high, 
Belshazzar held wild revelry ; 

Where, in the chamber filled with lights, 
The king caroused among his knights. 

Around sate his minions, in purple's rich fold, 
And quaffed mighty bumpers from beakers of gold. 

Deep clanged the bright goblets, wild revelled the guest'. 
The king's stubborn heart swelled with pride in his breast. 

The wine's reddest glow burns in his mad cheeks, 
And many a wicked thought he speaks. 

And blindly his madness his soul onwards spurred 
'Till he blasphemed the Godhead with direst of word ! 

And he swore and he raged in his infamies wild. 
While the servile crew mean flatteries smiled. 

And he shouted an order with eyes aflame — 
Away one hurried and back quick came. 

And brought of gold vessels a heavy load 
That once served the worship of Israel's God. 



PROM THE GERMAN. 65 

And with liis rash hands polluted by sin 

The king seized a chalice and poured the wine in ; 

And raised it to his lips so vile 

And drained it and cried with drunken smile, 

" Jehovah, this drink I to thee in scorn, 
For / am the King in Babylon." 

Yet scarce had the sound died away on the ear 
In his bosom there came a gruesome fear. 

And shouting and laughter ceased sudden with all, 
And silence like death reigned supreme in the hall. 

While in horror and terror and wonder all stand 
For lo ! on the wall seems a human hand ! 

That wrote and wrote on the marble so white 
With letters of fire, and vanished from sight. 

With staring eyes and bated breath 
The king sate motionless, a living death. 

And the roystering crowd were filled Avith dread, 
Were silent and motionless as dead. 

The Magi came at the king's command, 
But none these words could understand. 

That very night by his menial train 
That impious monarch in sleep was slain. 



QQ POEMS 

NiaHT SOM. 

(geibel.) 

Bright shines the moon's cold splendor 
O'er forest, hill and dale ; 

Wliere rests in silence tender 
The weary earth so pale. 

In dream the trees are waving, 
Soft purl the babbling streams. 

Angels with song are laving 
In the clear balmy beams. 

Light on the breeze are swinging, 
With many a sigh profound. 

Fancies of love, still clinging 
O'er those in slumber bound. 

Deep glitters in that vale dark 
Soft light where dwells my dear ; 

Far off beyond that faint spark 
Lies all the world so drear. 



A WISH. 

(von zedlitz.) 

But a trifle's my desire, 
Yet how far is it from me ! 

From the host of heavenly fire 
One small star my own to be, 

And what heaven, earth and sea 

Else contain — are naught to me. 



F R M THE G E R M A N . 

PEEGOLESE. 

(GKIBKL.) 

Now the master's work dotli end, 
And his pious thanks ascend 

To the Almighty on His throne ; 
And there swell in waves of might 
Through the arched dome's sombre light 

Holy hymn and organ tone. 
Stabat mater dolorosa, etc. 

And the heavenly mother's smarts 
Pierce with bitterness all hearts, 

As the organ deeper roars ; 
Yet such tones of godlike sweetness 
Must all pains disperse with fleetness 

While compassion's tear outpours. 
Quis est homo qui non Jieret, etc. 

Pious shudder, holy fright. 

Seize the master's soul with might, 

Death's forebodings grow apace ; 
Yet he turns in faith and trust 
To the altar of the just, 

To the Madonna's form of Grace. 
Mihijam non sis amara, etc. 

Hark ! outtone sweet seraph's lays 
In the song the earth-born raise. 

And the ear is filled with dread. 
From these scenes of dust and clay 
Angels bear the master 'way. 

While the deep chant onwards sped. 
Fac nis cruce cnstodiri, etc. 



67 



68 POEMS 

WHEN TWO HEAETS DEIPT ASUNDEE. 

(geibel.) 

When two hearts drift asunder 

Whose love hath oft been told, 
There goes a wail of sorrow 

So great as heart can hold. 
The cry rings out so drear and sore 

" Farewell ! farewell, forevermore !" 
When two hearts part forever 

Whose love hath oft been told. 

What time I first discovered 

That love may rend in twain. 
The sun seemed veiled in darkness, 

And black night come again. 
My ears grew sad o'er tidings sore, 

" Farewell, farewell forevermore !" 
What time I first discovered 

That love may rend in twain. 

My springtide turned to sadness, 

The cause I well can say, 
The lips I kissed in gladness. 

Are changed to dumb, cold clay. 
A single word breathed weak and sore — 

"Farewell, farewell forevermore." 
My sjDringtide turned to sadness, 

The cause I well can say. 



F R O M T II E G E R M A N . 69 i 

1 

THE BIRD or GOOD LUCK. < 

J 

(CHA.MISSO.) , 

In a flowery bosque there flies a bird ] 

That chirps and sings " come hither to me." ' 

In a bed of roses there sings a bird, 

Then in the wood, on the phiin is heard, ^ 

Then o'er the moorland and over the sea. .] 

And he who can that bird ensnare I 

Forever free from pain and care 
And all mishap shall be. 

i 

O'er a blossoming bank there sings a bird — 

" Oh, would I could fetter that bird to me !" 
In a flowery bosque there trills a bird. 
Then from the meadow, the forest is heard. 

Then over the mountains and over the sea. '• 

"Oh, could I but that bird entrap 
Forever free from all mishap 

And care and pain I'd be." I 

i 

Deep in the grove ran the boy for the bird — , 

" That bird I'll catch and keep by me." 

From the flowery bosque out flew the bird, i 

In the wood, o'er the plain, on the mountain was heard, ! 

Then o'er the moorland and far out to sea. 

And could the boy that bird ensnare i 

Forever free from pain and care i 

And nil misliaji he'd be. ] 

I 
I 



70 POEMS 

ES STEHT IM MEEE EIN EELSEN. 

Amidst the foaming billows 
There stands a stalwart rock, 

The angry waves wash o'er it, 
It yields not 'neath their shock. 

High on the mountain's summit 
A tower o'erlooks the vale, 

The whirlwinds roar around it 
But ne'er a stone does fail. 

A hurricane fierce rages, 

The storm-king rides the breeze. 

The leaves are torn and scattered. 
Like iron stand the trees. 

Th' Almighty's truth's eternal, 
More firm than tower or rock. 

It blooms and grows unyielding 
And breasts the storm's wild shock. 



HOE' lOH DAS LIEDOHEN. 

(HEINE.) 

Whene'er I hear that song again 

My darling used to sing, 
My breast is racked with savage pain. 

My heart doth madly spring. 

A gloomy yearning sends my soul 

Into the forest drear. 
Where misery beyond conLrol 

Bursts forth in manv a tear. 



F II O .M T H E E II M A N . 71 

IN APRIL. 

(geihel.) 

Oh dewy eve in spring tide, 

How dear art thou to me ! 
The heaven with clouds becurtained, 

And sc:irce a star 1 see. 

And like young love's soft breathings, 

The zephyr fans the moor. 
There rises from the valleys 

A violet odor pure. 

I would my song were gifted 

This evening's soul to paint ; 
I ne'er can seize the key-note, 

So gloomv, tender, faint. 



FIRST MEETING. \ 

(von ZEDLITZ.) j 

I met a beauteous maiden, \ 

Whose thoughts were pure as snow, 
Her voice was like a mellow flute, 

Mv heart was in a glow. 

i 

Her words were full of wisdom, ^ 

Her soul, of feelings strong, j 

She aci'injd a perfect woman — | 

T/ioiif/ft probnhh/ F m irronif. I 



72 POEMS 

THE TWO KINGS. 

(geibel.) 

Two kings held wassail in Orkadal; 

Bright burned tlie brands in the vaulted hall. 

The harpers sang gaily, the beakers flew 'round, 

But the kings fixed in anger their looks on the ground. 

Then outspake the one : " The girl must be mine; 

Whose brow's like the snowflake : whose blue eye's divine." 

In grimmest of wrath the other replied, 

" I've sworn she is mine and I never have lied." 

No words more were spoken, the kings both arose 
And seized each his falchion and faced each as foes. 

In silence they stalked from tlie warm bright hall — 
Deep, deep lay the snow on the castle's wall. 

The pine knots faint flicker : the steels blaze Avith light : 
A grave found two kings in Orkadal that night. 



A FEANK CONFESSION. 

(vON ZEDLITZ.) 

I have a little darling, 
A young and loving belle, 

I love her not to madness. 
Although I love her well. 

She is no worse than others 
And well deserves my heart, 

Yet am I very ha])i>y 
When we ■Ava—far (ijxtrl. 



FMM M TH K (i Kit MAN. 73 

SERENADE. 

(reinickk.) 

In the heavens rest the planets, 

Moon and stars their watch do keep, 
On the earth, a little garden 

Shimmering bright in flowers doth sleep. 

Nigh the garden stands a cottage, 

Bowered groves its door.s o'erlhateh, 
At its tiny gable windows, 

Singing angels hold their watcli. 



DIE LIEBE SASZ ALS NAGHTiaALL. 

(CEir.KI..) 

Once Cupid, like a nightingale, 

In a rose bush sate and sang. 
The tones melodious, soft and clear 

Throughout the green wood rang. 

And as he sang there circled 'round 

A thousand perfumes rare ; 
The trees their branches lightly waved, 

And gently breathed the air. 

The brooks kept silence, that were wont 

To babble from the hill ; 
Fast as in dream, the roebucks list 

To where the weird notes thrill. 



74 POEMS 

And bright and brighter, note by note, 
The sun shot burnished beams ; 

And flowers and wood and deeps drank in 
His golden rosy gleams. 

In silence bound, I walked the wood, 
And listened to the plaint : 

Ah, what since that sweet hour I've sung 
Was hut its echo faint ! 



VIOLET HIDDEIT IN THE PIELD. 

(reinicke.) 

Violet hidden in the field 
As with hope from view concealed, 
Violet, rejoice with me. 
Sunshine comes some day to tliee. 

Sunshine comes with love's warm beams. 
Fills thy soul with blissful dreams, 
Dries the tear that blurs thine e'e, 
Violet, rejoice with me. 



TIME IS EVER DOING. 

(gleim.) 

Koses blossom, bud, decay, 
'Morrow never cometh. 

Let no hour slip away. 

Fast old Time's sand runneth. 



V R O M T HE fi E R U A N . 

To delay a kindly deed 

Oft hath brought sore riieing. 

Live this moment: take good heed- 
Time is ever doing. 



THE SON OF SOKROW. 

(from THK SWKUISH.) 

Near the wild waves' lonely strand 
Sate Sorrow once, from heaven bann'd, 
And with her hands, in thoughtless play, 
A human figure formed of clay. 

Zeus came and asked " what's this, I pray ?" 
" 'Tis but a lifeless shape of clay. 
Oh grant my wish, — with power divine 
Breathe life into this image mine." 

"So let it be : but then he's mine 
By virtue of my craft divine." 
" No, no," responded Sorrow sad, 
" He is my own, my chosen lad. 

" 'Twas I who formed him of this eartli." 
" But 'twas my breath that gave him birth." 
Then outspake Earth, "/have a claim 
Upon this being of sin and shame. 



" From out my bosom torn he came, \ 

And I my rights must back reclaim." "• 
" Saturn," said Zeus, " shall judge the case, 

AVf'lI plead before him face to face." , 



76 P OEMS 

The judgment was "let none complain. 
All three ohall property retain. 
Zeus gave him life : so, when he dies, 
His soul shall mount beyond the skies. 

" When soul's forever hushed in sleep, 
His frame, oh Earth, is thine to keep. 
But thine, oh Sorrow, all his days 
Of life to walk within thy ways. 

" And while his feet on earth delay 
Thou shalt be with him every day, 
Thy saddening sigh his breath shall be, 
His face a counterpart of thee." 

So spake the Almighty's dread command, 
That while runs out Time's fleeting sand, 
. In life man is to sorrow given, 
In death to eartli — his soul to heaven ! 



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